


Don't Leave Me Horny

by DyslexicSquirrel



Series: More Than a Bounty [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: A little bit anyway, Alpha Derek Hale, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Knotting, M/M, No Betas We Die Like Talia, Omega Stiles Stilinski, Porn With Plot, Stiles Stilinski is a Little Shit, Werewolf Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 10:35:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27969170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DyslexicSquirrel/pseuds/DyslexicSquirrel
Summary: Stiles glared up at the werewolf handcuffing him to the bed. “I thought we were past this?”Derek’s stare was impassive as he tightened the metal around his wrist. “So did I. But you tried to escape again. Twice. Apparently I was wrong.”“Not my fault you fall into a coma after sex. You make it so easy.”Derek drew back in affront. “I donot—”
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: More Than a Bounty [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1954690
Comments: 35
Kudos: 406





	Don't Leave Me Horny

**Author's Note:**

> This is mostly filth? So, uh, enjoy I guess. >_>
> 
> There's some plotty bits toward the end or something.
> 
> Title is from Such a Whore by JVLA

Stiles glared up at the werewolf handcuffing him to the bed. “I thought we were past this?”

Derek’s stare was impassive as he tightened the metal around his wrist. “So did I. But you tried to escape again. Twice. Apparently I was wrong.” 

“Not my fault you fall into a coma after sex. You make it so easy.” 

Derek drew back in affront. “I do  _ not— _ ”

“Anyway, I’m trying to protect you,” he pulled ineffectively in the cuffs and sat back against the pillows with a huff, “This isn’t your problem. Just pretend you never found me and let me figure this out on my own.” 

“I don’t need a human teenager to protect me. And I made it my business.” At least Derek believed him about not being the mass murdering scumbag he was accused of being. Stiles stopped worrying about Derek dragging him back to California to be prosecuted, which meant for the time being his friends and family were safe, but there was still the issue of finding the person or people responsible and Derek wouldn’t let him have his laptop. Or his phone. The ass. 

Derek settled at the table by the door, the surface covered in newspaper, and pulled his gun from the holster on his waistband. Stiles watched the deft movements of the alpha’s hands— hands he had come to know intimately in the second day of their cross country trek— as he broke the gun down and started cleaning it. 

Stiles wasn’t going to ask. He wasn’t. He planned on sitting there, ignoring the alpha until he felt bad about chaining Stiles up  _ again _ , but Stiles had never been good at keeping quiet. “Why do you have a gun?” A sideways look from Derek was the only indication he got that the alpha heard him. “I mean you’re a werewolf, with the fangs and the claws and the glowy eyes.” All of which Stiles had seen up close and personal three times now, including in that dingy rest stop bathroom. There was seriously something wrong with him because he wanted Derek’s fangs in him again. Among other things. “Seriously, why the gun?” 

Derek didn’t stop what he was doing, but he actually answered. “The people I track down, the humans ones at least, don’t always realize I’m a werewolf. Or they don’t care. Think they can run anyway. But point a gun at them and they’re more likely to stay put.”

Stiles digested that. “So, you’re lazy.” 

Derek growled, eyes flashing red, and Stiles froze like a rabbit. The growl sent a shiver down his spine and he shifted against the mattress. The reverberation cut off in Derek’s chest, the alpha tilting his head at Stiles in a way that reminded Stiles of the puppy he had for a week when he was six before it ran away. It was unnervingly cute. 

Derek’s face slowly morphed back into his less wolfy features. “You’re kidding me.”

“Nah-uh,” Stiles said even though it hadn’t been a question. 

“We just—”

“I know.” They had pulled over onto some deserted back road somewhere after Stiles asked if Derek had ever had sex in his car out of idle curiosity. It wasn’t because it still smelled like them in the interior or that Stiles could still feel the bruises on his hips from when Derek fucked him in an alley after chasing Stiles down after his second escape attempt. He really had a thing for shoving Stiles against walls and Stiles was kind of here for it. 

“No,” Derek answered, a note of finality in his voice as if he knew what Stiles was going to ask. Stiles asked anyway— “Do you want to?”— and slapped his hand down against Derek’s thigh, feeling the hard line of the inseam against the pads of his fingers. 

Despite his protests, Stiles felt Derek thickening behind his fly when he slid his hand higher and the tires squealed as the alpha took the next turn too fast. The sun had set, leaving the area pitch black and Stiles hoping Derek’s night vision was superb because the headlights barely cut through the gloom. 

Derek got the car pulled over and parked without crashing, and Stiles was still bracing from the abrupt stop when Derek popped his seat belt and pulled Stiles into his lap. He hit his head, but that hardly mattered when the alpha got hands down his pants, fingers of one curling around Stiles length, while the other gripped a cheek and prodded at his wet hole. 

Stiles didn’t remember his pants coming off or when Derek had gotten inside him, but the feeling of bouncing on the alpha’s cock was burned indelibly into his mind. He would be saving that particular experience to his spank bank until he died. And he was ready and willing to go again. Stiles hadn’t even jerked off since fleeing California and now he was acting like a nymphomaniac, all thanks to a certain werewolf and the knot Stiles was becoming addicted to. 

“Seriously?” Derek asked, still seated, but facing Stiles now, gun pieces forgotten on the table. The red was still glowing in his eyes and he traced every minute shift Stiles made as he scented the air. 

Stiles shrugged, unembarrassed. “Teenage hormones.”

He got an eye roll and a head shake, the alpha going back to his task. That—

Was not what Stiles expected to happen. He groused to himself, knowing Derek could hear him, and tried to get comfortable but it was a lost cause. Since he was handcuffed to the bed, it wasn’t like Stiles could go into the bathroom and handle the situation happening in his pants, but then again Derek had seen everything of his there was to see and Stiles had never exactly been shy to begin with. 

A careless shrug, a shimmy down the bed, a flick of his thumb, and Stiles wedged his hand under the band of his boxer briefs, palm running slowly up and down the length of his erection. God, it felt good. Not as good as when Derek did it, but Stiles and his hand had been together longer and he knew exactly how to make himself shiver and moan. 

“What are you doing?” he heard Derek ask. Stiles cracked a lid to see what the  _ alpha  _ was doing. He’d stopped rubbing gun parts, but he hadn’t moved otherwise and wasn’t even looking at Stiles. 

So Stiles answered, “Nothing,” and went right back to playing with himself. He was so wet, everywhere, slick welling between his cheeks, precum leaking from his dick. The fact that he didn’t have another hand was frustrating for more than one reason. 

One, he had to choose between fingering or jerking and two, it was hard to take your pants off with one hand especially when you didn’t want to stop doing what you were doing with that hand. 

His shoes hit the floor with a thump. Gripping the hem of one pants leg with his toes, Stiles jerked. They barely moved, but barely was better than nothing and he did it again. And again. 

“What are you  _ doing _ ?” Derek sounded way closer. And growly. Hmm. 

He peeked and sure enough the alpha was standing at the foot of the bed, chest working like a bellow, eyes red as coals. Stiles halted the awkward dance he’d been engaged in (he’d be embarrassed about how he must have looked later). Eyes half-lidded, he looked up at Derek through his lashes, lips curled in an impish smile. “Trying to get my pants off since you won’t help and I’m a little short handed.” 

He rattled the cuffs for emphasis, never stopping the slow glide over his dick. A growl rumbled in Derek's chest and instincts Stiles normally had well buried come to the fore. He arched his back and bared his throat. Derek said, “You’re a menace.”

His brain was turning to goo cause he didn’t really mean to say anything. Or at least not something stupid. Sexy or flirty would have been good, but what came out of his mouth was, “Then call me Denis,” cause he clearly had no game. 

“What?” Of course Derek didn’t know what he was talking about. Probably didn’t have a dad like Stiles who still got an actual Sunday paper with the comics, that Stiles read while his dad made pancakes when he wasn’t working. That admittedly hadn’t been often, less so after his mom died and his dad threw himself into work even more. Bad time to think about his dad, though.  _ Stop it _ , he thought and shook his head. 

“Never mind,” Stiles said and, thank God, because it got Derek’s mind focused back on the here and now, and here and now the über hot alpha werewolf was peeling Stiles’ pants and underwear down his legs, tossing them in a random direction when he was done. 

Big, warm hands meandered up Stiles’ calves, hooking under his knees. Distracted by Derek’s hotness looming over him and how good his own hand felt, Stiles’ shrieked when the world spun and he landed on his front. “If you were a wolf, you would have been taught to behave better by your age.” 

Stiles pushed up on an elbow, spitting out a mouthful of motel sheets, and glared over his shoulder. “Good thing I’m not a wolf then.” 

Fucking alphas, always thinking they could tell everyone what to do. And werewolf alphas were the  _ worst _ —

“It is,” Derek rumbled, cutting into Stiles’ train of thought. 

His eyebrows popped up. “What now?” 

“If you were better behaved, we wouldn’t be here.” 

Stiles opened his mouth to argue, but Derek kind of had a point?

Derek pulled the zipper of his jeans down slowly. Stiles’ eyes snagged on the way his hand slid inside his black boxer briefs, pushing both down just enough to free his dick, flushed red and hard. The tip glistened with wetness when a downstroke pulled the foreskin back. Stiles swallowed an impatient whine. 

“If you had been raised better— ”

“ _ Excuse _ me?” Knotheaded son of a — Weres and their damn antiquatedness. Was that even a word? He couldn’t think straight. He was angry and turned on and if Derek would just  _ get on with it _ so he could yell at him after when they were locked together and Derek couldn’t get away —

“— I wouldn’t be doing this.” From one breath to the next, Derek spread his cheeks and speared Stiles with his tongue. 

He could totally yell at Derek later. Much, much later after he’d come a few times as payment for the alpha being a jerk. “Your tongue should be registered as a weapon.” 

Derek made a sound somewhere between a purr and a laugh, and Stiles swore he could feel it in his dick. His arm slid out from under him, refusing to hold him up anymore. The mattress absorbed his moans and curses. Who needed to breathe anyway? It was totally overrated. 

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than his head got yanked to the side by a fist in his hair and the sounds of Stiles’ pleasure echoed around the room. He was riding the alpha’s tongue and Derek was letting him and, oh fuck, it was so, so good. 

“Derek,” he wheezed, pleading,  _ begging _ , not even trying to reach for his dick without permission. Permission? He snorted. Give him regular sex for a couple days and apparently he turned into a good, little omega. Was that how the wolves got them to behave, he thought, a little hysterical, snarling when Derek took his tongue away. 

“Shh,” the alpha murmured, scruffing Stiles — who even did that anymore? — making him go boneless. “I’ll give you something better, little menace.” 

Stiles might have imagined something that wasn’t there, underlying the alpha’s words, but it flew out of his mind when Derek slid home in one easy glide. His grip was still firm on the back of Stiles’ neck and it — it was — he didn’t know how to describe it. 

All he could focus on was how full he was, the gentle rocking movements that teased him with a half filled knot, the scent of alpha permeating the air. His eyes slid shut, hands twisting weakly in the sheets, mouth open on a silent cry of bliss. 

He never wanted it to end. 

He wanted  _ more _ .

Derek was being stubbornly slow — something Stiles was beginning to think was a character flaw — grinding while he held Stiles pinned, no matter how much Stiles whined. If the alpha wasn’t going to move, he needed to, but the fingers pressed into the back of his neck were still turning his limbs into jelly. His hand flopped around before he focused enough to be able to reach back and grab the alpha’s wrist. Stiles dragged it to his mouth and nipped at the blunt tips of Derek’s fingers. The fog lifted enough that Stiles was able to roll his hips back, clenching down around the thick length inside of him. 

His back was blanketed in gowling alpha, the flex of the larger man’s hips forcing a grunt from around the fingers in his mouth, but Derek’s voice was amused when he asked, “Are you sure you're not a wolf?” 

One last lave of his tongue and Stiles drew back enough to say, “Not even a little.” That had annoyed him once, all of his friends were supernatural creatures, but Stiles hadn’t been even a little tempted when Scott offered him the bite. He was cool with being plain, old Stiles. “Are we doing this or what?”

“You know it’s not practical for me to actual fuck you twenty-four/seven, right?” Derek huffed, still draped over his back, their skin sticking together where both of their shirts had ridden up. 

“Can’t keep up, wolf man?” 

He could hear Derek shake his head. “No manners.”

“Could you fuck me,  _ please _ ?” 

“Since you asked so nicely.” More hair than the stubble was normally on his perpetually stubble cover chin rasped against Stiles’ cheek when Derek nuzzled it. Stiles shivered from the loss of the alpha’s body heat, then shivered for a completely different reason when his hips were gripped. The pinprick of claws had his eyes closing and a sigh passing his lips. Maybe Derek always wolfed out during sex, but maybe he didn’t. Stiles shouldn’t care that much — the guy had basically kidnapped him — but the thought made something light up in his brain that he could affect that alpha so much. 

Derek gave him what he asked for, fucking him hard and fast. Stiles had to brace his uncuffed hand against the headboard to stop himself inching across the mattress. He was a mess — sweat beading his skin, slick wetting his thighs, dick leaking. 

“Der — please — I need,” he begged, brokenly. Stiles spread his legs wider, pressed his chest harder against the bed, hips canting so the alpha’s next thrust had him going deeper, sliding along his prostate with every thrust. He could come like this, but he wanted Derek’s knot when he did, stretching him so much it almost hurt. 

He knew Derek was close by the strength of his grip and the pitch of his growl. The knot was forced inside Stiles’ hole, not even as big as it was going to get. He didn’t think he could wait for it. 

Stiles risked taking his hand off the headboard, but Derek was keeping him in place so he figured he was safe from a concussion. Hand freed up, Stiles inched it slowly down the bed on a path to his dick. When the alpha didn’t comment, Stiles wrapped his hand around himself and started stroking in time with Derek’s thrusts. He was so on edge it didn’t take much before he started coming, trying to take the alpha with him, but Derek — 

— Pulled out!? 

“Nooo,” he sobbed, orgasm ripping through him. Derek was coming, too, he felt the alpha’s warm release inside his hole, dripping down his legs. Derek’s fist brushed his rim because he was  _ jerking off  _ into his ass? What the fucking fuck? Stiles was twitching and sensitive, trying to catch his breath to tear the alpha a new one.

He came, sure, but it was a bit unsatisfying and, frankly, mean of Derek to tease him like that. 

Derek who was still hard and pushing back inside of Stiles, knot stopped by the tight clench of Stiles’ ass. He was rung out and the alpha was still going, fucking his come out of Stile’s hole. “Seriously?”

The irony of him echoing Derek’s earlier question was nothing list on him.

“Maybe this will tire you out for a few hours and I can get some work done.” It was satisfying that Derek was at least out of breath, but Stiles wanted a nap. He didn’t tell Derek to stop, though. Not even when he winced at the touch of Derek’s fingers at his hole. One slipped inside along with the alpha’s cock, stretching him. He didn’t realize he was making sounds until Derek gave a soothing rumble, the hand on his hip leaving to smooth down Stiles’ back. “I can’t concentrate when you smell like sex all the time.”

Stiles couldn’t concentrate when Derek had his dick and a finger — Nope, scratch that,  _ two  _ fingers, up his ass trying to stretch Stiles enough to take his inflated knot. Like who even did that? And why was Stiles so into it? Derek went slow and between his slick and the alpha’s come he was wetter than a river, but he still winced when the knot slid in and Derek started rocking it against his prostate. 

Signing, he let Derek do all the work until the alpha came again, spilling hot inside of him, and his knot got even bigger? Stiles didn’t come again, not really. His dick didn’t get hard, but something happened and it left him feeling like he was floating on a cloud. Was this what being with Derek during a rut would be like? He hadn’t really considered being with an alpha for a rut before, hadn’t had a desire to get knotted before, either, but he was surprising himself all over the place because he could kind of see himself just laying down and letting Derek ravish him for a couple days? 

Derek flicked off the bedside lamp and got them situated on their sides and under the covers. The zipper of alpha’s jeans dug into his skin, but the discomfort was far away. He was warm and relaxed in a way he couldn’t ever remember being. He blamed that for why he spoke, face pressed against the inside of Derek’s elbow. “Today’s my birthday.” 

Stiles had been trying to forget about that fact, honestly. It was his first birthday away from his dad. Ever. The first birthday without Scott and Lydia since like first grade. He left Beacon Hills without saying goodbye. They might all hate him. He was too tired to really feel sad about it, but Derek must have picked up on something because Stiles felt him go still behind him, the kind of stillness that comes with being a predator. 

Stiles froze because he didn’t actually know this guy, did he? Maybe mopey omegas made him homicidal. But Derek didn’t try to pull away or rip out his throat. His hands twitched and a sigh gusted against the back of Stiles’ neck, then a strong arm wrapped around him, tucking Stiles more firmly against the alpha’s chest. Chin resting against the top of his head, Derek said softly, “Happy birthday, Stiles.” 

Stiles didn’t respond. He sniffled and turned further into Derek’s arm. It wasn’t long before he slipped into sleep. 

* * *

Derek was having trouble getting the smell of the omega’s despair out of his nose. Once his dick softened up enough to separate without disturbing him, Derek left the nest — No,the  _ bed _ — tucked his wet dick into his pants and walked, barefoot, outside to breathe in the cool, night air. It did fuck all, though, because the smell was still lingering in the room amid the scents of sex. 

Stiles was sleeping at least. Derek watched him for a while, the relaxed jut of his chin, the lax mouth, slim fingers curled into the pillow Derek slipped under him once he moved his arm and the omega whimpered in his sleep. This was the first time in two days Derek saw him sleep peacefully for more than an hour. Usually he tossed and turned or muttered incoherently. Made Derek wonder, not for the first time since meeting him, what Stiles had gone through. 

It was why he found himself sitting at the rickety table, after his weapons were all cleaned and put away, picking up his phone and calling someone he promised himself he wouldn’t call unless it was under pain of death. It rang twice then the line clicked open. “Do you still know people in Beacon Hills?”

He couldn’t remember much about the small California town. He had dim memories of trees and a large house before his mother moved the pack away further up the coast. In the end, it hadn’t matter because the hunters came anyway. 

“Who is this?” the man on the other end of the line asked in a droll voice.

“Peter,” he grated. 

“Oh, hello, nephew.” He could hear the smirk in his uncle’s voice. “How’ve you been? How’s the family? Oh, wait.”

“Cut the shit and answer the question.” 

Peter gasped. “Is that any way to speak to your uncle?”

“You stopped being my uncle a long time ago.” The Hale pack scattered after the fire that took his mother. Peter, bent on revenge, hadn’t cared what happened to his nieces and nephew, left to find a new pack in order to survive. Other packs were wary of accepting a Hale alpha, but Laura, as an omega of breeding age, was hard to pass up and she drove a hard bargain. Derek hadn’t stayed long, after he turned eighteen and knew the girls were settled. He was better on his own, anyway. But he knew where his family was and how they were doing. Laura was the Luna of her pack now, with a gaggle of pups, and Cora, with her wanderer heart, was backpacking through a rainforest somewhere. Peter… Derek hadn’t talked to Peter in a decade. 

“You wound.” Peter dropped the act and turned serious. “But, yes, of course I still know people in Beacon Hills. I’m very well connected. Why?”

Derek had to force the words past a closed throat. “I need a favor.”

“Oh,” Peter purred and Derek’s regrets piled even higher. His eyes found Stiles, curled up in a tight ball, looking tiny and vulnerable, and hoped he wasn’t wrong. 

**Author's Note:**

> Oh yeah! I’m on Twitter now! (Like fan twit) follow me @gremlin_sassy if you waaaaant. I post snips sometimes and updates and crap


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